


A King without a Kingdom

by Kralj



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls II
Genre: F/M, More characters to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kralj/pseuds/Kralj
Summary: Another cursed undead arrives in Majula, but perhaps he might be the one to save the Kingdom and put the Emerald Herald's chains to rest.
Relationships: The Bearer of the Curse/Emerald Herald | Shanalotte
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Waves - back, and forth. Water crashing against jagged rock. Great cliffs slowly eroded. Sandy beaches left to the wind. That’s all that remained of this land - quiet erosion. There was hardly any vegetation in Majula either - some spots to grow wheat, perhaps sustain life, but not enough to thrive. The great fortress, if there ever was one, was shattered beyond compare. Only a grey-brick wall and a few arches remained. There was a monument that still stood, shaped like an obelisk armed at the sky… of course the writing etched on the stone was beyond recognition as well.

Yet life continued on in Majula, regardless of the outside world. There were a few homes, a few residents, though there were never many visitors. One visitor arrived that day, from the shattered cracks of Things Betwixt. Emerging from the black cavity, a man was covered in dark blue robes. There was a staff on his back, with scrolls attached and other strange knick-knacks. His boots were made of fine leather, but his head and most of his face were covered in a ragged cloth, ripped at the edges. In his right hand, he carried a dull and slightly rusted longsword. There was no shield.

The visitor took in the sounds of the water crashing at the cliffs. Majula stood at the top of cliffs, far from below. He could even make out the sounds of a few birds chirping and pigs snorting off in the distance. With a calm step, yet his sword gripped in hand, the man started walking toward the village. He passed a small arch, smirking underneath his mask that such a thing could even remain standing. After passing through the arch, the visitor noticed a woman off in the distance near a bonfire, taking in the view.

The bonfire was already lit. Flames flickered and danced within it’s center, and like any undead, the visitor felt some kind of fascination looking at it. Even though his face was that normal pink, the flame still healed his soul. Firekeepers were women of the bonfire. They tended to the flame, keeping it strong and unwavering despite the decay of the world. Legends stated that in ancient times, men would have to harness the fire itself to grow stronger. Firekeepers now helped undead along that path.  
Sheathing his sword, the man approached the woman. She wore a bright and colorful dress. On the inside was a simple brown robe, yet decorated with a cross and white leggings. Red lines of rope crossed her chest and tied into fanciful notes. On the outside, she wore a bright green cape and hood, covering her whole back and most of her brown hair. Her face was simple and curved. As the visitor approached, she did not bat an eye toward him. Staring off in the distance, she echoed

“Are you the next monarch? Or merely a pawn of fate?”

The man remained silent.

“Bearer of the curse, I will remain by your side, until this frail hope shatters. Go on, and seek the king. He who made Drangleic what it once was; he who peered at the essence of the soul... King Vendrick. Bearer of the curse, seek misery, for misery will lead you to greater souls. You will never meet the King with a soul so frail and pallid,”

The man stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, his eyes hidden from the firekeeper. “Are you finished?”

The firekeeper’s eyebrows raised upward and downward. She took a breath before concluding, “No. That curse you carry is a part of life itself. No one will ever be rid of it. Shoulder your burden like a monarch, lest the land swallow you whole... as it has done so many others,”

The man approached the firekeeper, overlooking the great cliffs at Majula. The sun was great and bright as morning had arrived not long before There was something incandescent about the waves, the way light reflected onto their peaks. A wife. Maybe a child? The man put his head on his forehead, brewing great thoughts that just crashed against nothing. How long had it been? Shaking his head, he turned toward the firekeeper. They said there was a hope of lifting the curse here in Drangleic. The Great Kingdom. So much for that.

“Is it just the two of us?”

The firekeeper ended her gazing and faced the man as well. “No. Saulden, a crestfallen man, sits at the monument. He might guide you on your next steps. An old blacksmith, rests behind us. Maughlin the Merchant resides in the center. Finally, a timeless creature, Shaloquir the Sweet Cat, takes her home in the center as well,”

The man grinned. “The blacksmith doesn’t have a name?”

“Implore him, bearer of the curse,” the firekeeper replied, with some tone in her voice.

“And what’s your name?”

“You may call me the Emerald Herald… and take this,” the Emerald Herald stated, handing over an estus flask for the bearer. “You’ll need it, on your journey,”

The man bowed before her and set off to the monument without another word. She watched from a distance as he spoke to Saulden, sitting on the edge of that monument with his hands glued to his face as always. The emerald herald wasn’t sure, but she could have noticed, for just a moment, he smiled. Saulden gave a small ring to the bearer, which he put on his finger, before waving and walking down the steps of that monument. For the most part, only a blank expression rested on her face. So many had come through that gate, and none of them returned. Regardless, her duty remained her duty.

The bearer of the curse walked around town, visiting the blacksmith outside his locked worship. There was some commotion and complaining, mostly on the part of the blacksmith which brought a smile on the herald’s face. From there, he ventured toward the center and it’s ominous pit. The manor’s gate was locked, and after exploring for a while, he left Majula for the Forest of the Fallen Giants.

****

Two days had passed since then, and not a word from the bearer. The cartographer Cale had arrived back, saying that he had noticed him but only days before however. The Emerald Herald wasn’t shocked. Men and women of all kinds and from all lands came to Drangelic seeking a cure for the curse. There was none. Even being a monarch couldn’t change that fact. She had taken a preference for some more than others, though. A woman from a far off land and old homeland of dragons. Her face was bright and warm as the bonfire. She didn’t last a day, though. Eventually, the herald learned to deal with that.

Yet, off in the distance, she could feel something roaming. A shred of humanity roaming toward it’s home, the bonfire - and it was coming the same way as that old gate. Out from the shadows at the orange of twilight, the bearer of the curse emerged from the cavern, staff in one hand and that longsword dangling in the other. Around the bearer was the faint white glow of souls amassed on his person.

Normally, the Emerald Herald would have remained still. She sat on a rather large rock, legs firmly planted in the ground with one of her hands on her face, holding up her head. Originally, there was nothing but a blank expression on her face, but seeing the last ‘bearer’ return caused her to turn her head. She watched from afar how casually he walked back from the forest, how the tip of his sword would gently bounce in the air, relaxed in his right hand. As the bearer of the curse approached, she arched her back up and stood straight.

The bearer ignored her though. He pulled a key from his pocket first and headed toward the blacksmith’s workshop. The blacksmith, a bulky and green man, still sat without purpose. Using the key, the bearer opened the locked door and let the blacksmith inside. The blacksmith took a sudden breath and shouted for joy, standing up and grabbing his hammer beside him, headed toward the anvil. They exchanged a few words and the bearer smiled. His face was still covered by his hood. Others wouldn’t have been able to tell, but the Emerald Herald knew. He was weaker than before, if only by a small amount. He had died on the journey, and she felt the inklings of the curse return on him. Yet the bearer returned all the same and approached her.

“His name is Lenigrast,”

Surprised, the herald shook her head. “I’m aware,”

The man stood still for a few moments. “So, how are you going to…?”

“Kneel before me, bearer. I will imbue you with strength,”

The bearer knelt before the herald, putting his staff away but keeping his longsword in hand. He drove the blade into the ground, both hands on the hilt. The herald, meanwhile, grabbed a small wand and began to say a prayer for the bearer. Both of their eyes remained closed. The faint white outline that surrounded the man began to disappear from him, and instead the bearer could feel the weight of the slain enter his heart. He felt his sword weighed less, his eyes could see a greater field of magic, and his heart was more durable than ever. After finishing her hymn, the Emerald Herald put away her wand and the bearer stood up.

“Seek myself anytime, Bearer of the Curse. I can grant you strength,”

The bearer’s eyebrows raised. “Anytime?”

The emerald herald looked at him frustratingly, causing him to smile.

“I met the cartographer, Cale. I’m guessing he arrived earlier?”

“Cale arrived yesterday, opening the manor again. You will find him in the basement most likely,”

The bearer nodded his head. “Thanks, I think I’ll go see him. I’ve never met anybody so interested in maps before, but I guess we all have our interests. There’s a bed in there as well supposedly, nice and large - at least according to Cale. I’ve been thinking about laying on it for a while before I returned to my search for the ‘King’. And, one more thing, could you look a little more livelier next time I come back?”

The Emerald Herald lay out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “I will try, bearer,”

The Bearer of the Curse lay still for a moment. He put his hand on his hood for a few moments before sheathing his sword in front of her. “My name is Felix, by the way,” he said, giving her a small wave as he left her at the bonfire.


	2. Chapter 2

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**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this, I don't know why from Emerald's perspective, but I did. And there's probably going to be more, so I hope you enjoyed.


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